Sleepyhead
by justicemuffins
Summary: Phil Coulson doesn't do Valentine's Day. Apparently, a bout of sleepy sex is just what he needs to get into the holiday spirit.


**So I wrote a sort of Valentine's Day thing. I'm going to apologize in advance, haha. **

* * *

Phil is a light sleeper—whether that's by training or nature, he's long forgotten—so it doesn't take much to wake him. In this case it happens to be Steve. Or more specifically, Steve slowly grinding his erection against Phil's backside as he mumbles and makes little noises in his sleep. It's one of the rare times when Phil isn't immediately sure of how to proceed.

He blinks sleepily as he lies on his side, his gaze eventually finding the alarm clock beside their bed. Several seconds of squinting allow him to determine that it's 3:37 in the morning; still well before either of them need to be awake. Phil is typically one to wake and rouse fairly quickly, but being towards the end of what had been a very long couple of weeks for the both of them coupled with their frantic, needy sex just a few hours prior means he's still caught in the grasp of sorely needed sleep.

But the question is, does he wake Steve or leave him as he is? There's the question of whether or not Phil can really go back to sleep like this, but considering he's about halfway there already he supposes it won't be much of a problem. Not, at least, until Steve ruts up against him, his arms tightening around Phil's waist as he moans something that sounds suspiciously like the agent's name.

Even half-asleep, Phil isn't immune to arousal, especially not with the quiet, desperate noises Steve's making. As much as he'd like to go back to sleep, he doesn't see any shame in starting Valentine's Day early. He taps the soldier's wrist, squeezing once.

"Steve. Wake up," he murmurs.

The blonde snorts himself awake, his body jerking once, startled out of sleep. It takes him ten long seconds to realize why he'd been awoken and his drowsy movements convey his embarrassment.

"'M sorry," he says, moving to scoot away. "Didn't know."

Phil shakes his head, taking hold of Steve's hand and slipping it between his legs. The soldier groans into Phil's shoulder as he feels for himself that Phil is already half-hard. The agent reaches for the bedside table, fumbling for the bottle of lube before finally managing enough coordination to grab it and press it into Steve's hand.

He feels the soldier working him open with slow, uncoordinated fingers. Thankfully he's still somewhat loose from Steve's more careful ministrations a few hours prior, because the man doesn't waste much time in replacing his fingers with his cock, hooking Phil's leg over his own as he slowly works himself all the way in. Phil heaves a slow, satisfied sigh—echoed in the groan from his partner— and closes his eyes as Steve rocks his hips against him.

Neither of them speak, caught in a strangely perfect combination of drowsiness and arousal as Steve thrusts lazily into Phil. The soldier's hands wander as he places sloppy kisses to the agent's neck. There isn't anywhere that Steve doesn't touch, seemingly content to run his hands along the entirety of Phil's body, until he finally reaches the agent's cock.

Taking him in hand, Steve tugs his prick at the same languid pace as his thrusts. Phil reaches back, tangling his fingers in Steve's hair, not encouraging him to move any faster or slower, just basking in the warmth of their sleepy love-making and his slowly building orgasm. Steve never alters his pace, but his torpid whines and murmurs become more frequent, telling Phil that he's close. On his part, Phil can feel the languorous pace teasing it out of him; at any other time he'd have called it torture, but now it's just exquisite.

He's at the razor's edge when Steve pushes all the way in, stilling as he comes, grunting in his completion. Phil follows soon after, shivering as he spills over Steve's fist, letting out the breath he'd held in a slow, satiated groan. Steve presses his face to the junction between Phil's neck and shoulder, rolling his hips as they collectively ride their orgasms to the finish, before he sighs, kissing the agent sleepily.

The last thought Phil has before dropping back to sleep amidst Steve's soft snores is that they really should get cleaned up, but he's out before he can give it much more thought.

* * *

"I can't remember the last time I slept so well," Steve says, kissing the back of Phil's neck as he sets two mugs of coffee down on the table.

"I have to admit, I'm feeling pretty well rested myself," Phil says, taking a sip of the coffee that Steve has doctored just to his liking.

"Sorry about that, by the way," Steve says lowly, sliding into the seat beside him. "I really didn't mean to do that… or wake you that way."

"It's perfectly natural," Phil says with a shrug as he plucks a piece of toast from the plate he'd set down earlier. "Besides, do I look like I'm complaining?"

Steve huffs a laugh.

"Not really," he replies. His hand slides to Phil's thigh and when the agent looks up there's a decided twinkle in the man's eye. "Shame we can't do things like that more often."

"It's rather difficult to plan that sort of thing, yes," Phil says. "But seeing as it's Valentine's Day, I'm all for giving it that good old college try."

"I thought you said you didn't do this whole Valentine's Day thing?" Steve says, looking curious.

"I don't," Phil says. "But you do and that's all the encouragement I need."

The smile he gets in return could easily light all of Manhattan and he eagerly responds to the kiss press to his lips.

"So you won't mind all the roses and candy I got you," Steve says.

Phil groans, Steve laughs.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Phil."


End file.
